


break the law (and its enforcers all bones)

by syubb (moanyoon)



Category: EXO (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Derogatory Language, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Homophobia, Mental Health Issues, Mercenaries, Military, Multi, Past Abuse, Sex Worker, politician
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-01-19 01:23:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12400206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moanyoon/pseuds/syubb
Summary: They will never accept you for who you are. Tell me, what can we do? The only logical thing, of course: Fight the system.alternatively: the space au where the boys come from all over the solar system and are united when desperate times call for them. chaos follows.





	1. the Contract

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING
> 
> this fic will probably be hella dark, i hope i won't strain y'all too much. still, this fic is meant to fuck you up somehow, many of the characters are very instable because frankly, the worlds/societies they're living in are plain shit. also, this is a bts focus, exo are only the supporting cast! also, i have the concept finished, i don't know how i will write everything yet, i guarantee changes in the future and so on.
> 
> this work will feature derogatory language, homophobia, graphic violence, questionable ethics, dub con, mentions of underage intercourse, drug usage and mental health issues.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The little guilt Yoongi still felt from time to time because he was merely human had rid itself from his conscience when he received his payment. It was even larger than what they had negotiated before because Minjae was convinced that fast, efficient work that left no traces deserved higher recognition.

Min Yoongi - Persephone

The sun shone mercilessly, making the sweat standing on Yoongi’s forehead glisten as he hid himself in the sparse shade of a tree, which was interrupted by the suns’s beams with every move of the green leaves. The bark was uneven beneath the thin material of his overall and shirt, digging into his back with every second passing. He was clearly procrastinating, should’ve found another job by now, anything to pay for the water necessary in this time of the year. Still, he was lazing around, feeling increasingly guilty because of what he wasn’t doing right now. The ground underneath him was dusty and dry, showing the lack of water in the planet’s hottest season. The seasons on Persephone have been known for their harsh contrasts all over its solar system: Summers dry and desert-like, winters cold and dull like the eternal one on Boreas, all in all demanding complete extortion from its citizens. Yoongi, however, who had lived on both Persephone and Hemera, which had a milder, more humane climate, had grown to like and even anticipate the drastic change of the weather the seasons brought, and had once decided for himself that he wouldn’t change it for any other world, climate or life. He had always felt like with every season, something old ended and new began.

Separating himself from his glorious tranquility, he rose from the dry ground and patted the dust off his legs before he stretched himself like a cat, yawning and making his bones crack. As he distanced himself from the tree, mindlessly walking along the road he knew lead to the city with lazy and long strides, he found himself looking up into the sky in hopes for a cloud or anything that would give him shelter when the sun was heating his dark clothes. The walk to his city, or rather village, was fairly short. Soon enough he found himself in between vegetables, electronic waste extolled as new cheap technology and all kinds of restaurants or booths. People bumped into him and the continuous buzz of voices, shuffling and yells swallowed every individual sound within its meaningless mumble. His feet carried him towards something that couldn’t even be called a pub if you were trying to be nice. It was merely a place for cheap booze, boorish conversation and, specifically for Yoongi, a place to find jobs, because sadly, being a mercenary on Persephone meant doing people’s dirty work about ninety percent of the time. An unpleasantly mephitic smell met his nose when he entered the questionable building and went straight for the blackboard with all kinds of colorful sentences and information hid behind bright, neon applications in order to find a new job for some money. He wasn’t very picky and didn’t mind pulling a trigger if it meant money and one less asshole breathing necessary air to live his pathetic excuse of a life, making Yoongi quite the reliable mercenary and thus source of help and certainty around his village, called Ggochip.

He pulled out his communicator and the transparent display sprung to life as if it was opening his eyes after a short nap. It rested against his palm quite lightly, given the thick material it was made from. Once again, bright, pungent colors screamed at him from the surface, wanting Yoongi to tap on each and every notification and information the device offered. However, he only let the comm link itself with the electronic blackboard in front of it and with a few swipes, all possible contracts flashed up the little piece of glass, all ready for Yoongi to read and sort through. He quickly let his eyes fly over the given jobs: There were a couple people wanting something like a bodyguard for a trip to Hemeras, which he would’ve taken if the payment weren’t as ridiculously low as it happened to be, someone wanted their brother-in-law dead and there was a political organization on the ice planet Boreas wanting some mercenaries as soldiers. Funnily enough, they were all politically correct and didn’t call them soldiers specifically, because that title was reserved for actual members of the UAF, but instead names them “armed protection details for civilians supporting the Association in case of a conflict with the official military”. Naturally, even though he wasn’t quite fond of Boreas, he kept the last two contracts, the brother-in-law case and conflict-with-military case, and decided to pay his first client a little visit.

As it turns out, said client was in quite the dilemma. Apparently, his family had been in the culinary oil business for generations by now and the company was traditionally given to the oldest son in the family, which had been him, until quite recently, when his sister had decided to marry her boyfriend of three weeks. Marrying quickly wasn’t all too uncommon on Persephone, mostly because being married was, by the planet’s law, a lot more profitable tax-wise, that only being in a relationship. Since divorces weren’t very expensive either and were mainly settled between families - or rather clans, for that matter - those were almost as common as being married after, well, three weeks. Admittedly, usually couples waited until five weeks.

“You see, my friend,” Minjae, started again, and Yoongi was very tempted to correct him there, “I have always been the oldest brother. I now have two kids, my wife wants me to feed them. Hell, I want to feed them! I’d also like to feed myself, you know?” Yoongi only nodded mutely, showing mild interest in his client’s struggle with the nepotism he had expected. “The thing is, my sister’s husband is older than me, and he made my parents feel like he needs to have the company to give my sister a proper life. Our family never did it this way before, giving people that married into the family the company. You see, my parents aren’t very bright, bless them, so they fell for this bastard’s trick. His father’s the founder of our biggest rival company, for fuck’s sake!,” he managed to almost yell and proceeded to spit on the ground in front of his feet. Yoongi cringed mildly at the brown color, and were there crumbs in it? Long story short, meaning after what felt like Minjae’s whole family history being told, Minjae wanted his brother-in-law dead, because his parents had made it very clear that they didn’t plan on giving Minjae anything of the company as long as their son-in-law needed it.

This is how he ended up leaning against the front of an apartment complex in the night, an old and shabby one, with a crackled façade from the countless icy winters that ripped it apart slowly. During daytime, it once surely was a warm, beige color but Yoongi knew from photos that it withered away into an uncomfortable, diluted piss yellow. Now, icy cold night air surrounded his slender body and the black sky above his head would be sparkling with stars if it weren't for the illuminated village around him. He checked himself down quickly, patting on his jacket. He knew exactly how to get inside the complex and how to leave after the job was done without causing a tumult or making a mess. He knew from good old Minjae, his sturdy, middle-aged friend with the weird toothbrush-like moustache underneath his wide nose that had only added to his odd looks and seemed to twitch and develop a live of its own every time the man talked, that his sister was going out with a few of her friends tonight and wasn’t expected back home until the early morning hours. Yoongi had to admit at that point, Minjae had put a lot of thought into the job prior to putting it onto the blackboard, because frankly, that was simply dumb. In all honesty, which human being with just a quantum of common sense would put an assassination contract on a public fucking blackboard in one of the most shady pubs in town?

He was ripped out of his thoughts when his target, Minjae’s dear brother-in-law, left the front door. Yoongi had just acted like he was smoking one of these cheap cigarettes from Persephone’s north that were more chemistry and stretched industrially than actual tobacco, especially since the actual tobacco plants on Persephone were shit and full of all kinds of substances capable of turning one’s gums white and teeth brown while lining the lungs with tar thicker than a street in the period of maybe half a delta year. His target didn’t take great notice of him, just let his gaze flicker over him while walking past him into the alley where he had been supposed to meet one of his whores, which surprised Yoongi quite a bit, given the fact that usually the slimy male fucked his whore at about three delta hours before dawn, making him one hour early. Yoongi didn’t sweat it, though. On the contrary. It actually made his job easier.

He allowed himself to step away from his position and hurriedly took off for the corner his target had just turned past. Upon glancing into the alleyway and realizing that his whore hadn’t arrived yet, Yoongi thought of a plan quickly. He drew his knife and tilted the blade upwards against the wide sleeve of his jacket, hiding it behind his wrist. He pushed a mask onto his face quickly, one of those that were compulsory to wear while on public planetary transport, and took out a chip card from the breast pocket of his clothes, which were thick and layered to protect from the cold, keeping it far from his well-isolated, pale skin.  
“Hey man, wait up a second!,” he yelled after his target and trotted a bit inside the alley, the hand with the card stretched out in front of him. When he heard Yoongi yelling, the man in the alley, that was ironically currently smoking a delta cigarette, flinched and eyed him with a generous amount of suspicion. With the saturnine sky above, swallowing all the light trying to reach a certain height, the bright street lights shining from above their heads and the neon signs and billboards of outside the alley’s shops, Yoongi’s head was illuminated and shone like a gloomy, bright blue halo, dissimulating any negative presumption while giving him what seemed like an aura of innocence and genuineness. Consequentially, the man’s suspicions quickly vanished. He closed the distance between himself and the man, his veiny hand still outstretched. His breath formed little, delicate clouds in the air when he came to a stop in front of the person whose life he was supposed to end tonight.

It all happened in a matter of seconds, surely, but Yoongi was focused enough to have everything feeling like minutes were passing as thick goo when the man’s eyes flickered to the card in Yoongi’s hand and lifted his own to meet the piece of plastic. In the moment he grabbed it, hands greedy like a toddler’s, Yoongi swung his arm in an act of sedulous precision, his limb extended with the shiny blade of the knife between his knuckles. Bloody mist sprayed onto his front when the man wheezed out the air in his lungs, gurgling sounds escaping either his lips or throat. Yoongi cringed at the mess he had made when the male collapsed on the ground, a puddle underneath him. Before he had lashed out, the lights coming from his back had given him a halo of unnatural light, now they were sparkling in the extending, dark liquid in front of him. After pulling off his mask and tucking it in one of his pockets, he wiped his face in the crook of his elbow and put the card back into his jacket. In his other hand still was his knife, held steadily by slender, red freckled fingers, the blade now textured with blood. Yoongi wiped it on his forearm as well and pocketed it somewhere on the inside of his jacket, mentally making a note on buying a new jacket as he was sure that it was more expensive to let it clean professionally – and also harder to explain, mind you – in order to remove the mess on its front. He fished a clean, new filter mask out of his pocket and covered the lower half of his face before he distanced himself from his victim and stepped out into the brightly lit street connected to the alley in his back, starting his way back home.

Yoongi kept looking straight ahead. All around him were clusters of bright signs, always somehow restless and moving, flickering or changing like organisms of their own, illuminating his field of vision in contrast to the brooding dark of the night that had settled itself in every corner the advertisements couldn’t reach like a lurking predator, all tense and baleful, waiting to attack. His shoulder was pushed backwards when someone moved past him. He only noticed bright green hair, all patchy with the colors shining onto it from all possible angles. Without pushing it much, Yoongi continued his way through the flood that was the people around him. His feet carried him further, his home calling for him. When he saw the sign for the SUPRAtrain, he took the stairs leaving up to the railway two at a time, ignoring the dull ache in his too thin legs towards the end of the high stairs. He could’ve taken the elevator but today he really didn’t feel like having the smell of piss penetrate his nose. When he arrived on the top of the stairs people were scattered on the platform. Yoongi knew they were fewer than during daytime but he still felt himself suffocate a bit when thinking about having to rub himself on all of these bodies when boarding the train. Maybe, though, he felt himself suffocate a bit because of the stairs he just climbed. Of course he wouldn’t admit that. Soon, he saw the train in the distance, saw its lights both coming from its actual sources and reflected on the thin railway, almost like it was pulled by an otherwise invisible thread. With a loud, unpleasant hissing and a gush of icy air the train came to a halt next to the platform. Yoongi pushed himself forward, elbowing people he passed to create some space. He saw some blood from his clothes get rubbed onto a plastic see-through coat and cringed a bit at the fact that it hadn’t dried yet. He sighed into his mask and closed his eyes whilst the bright city lights rushed past the moving carriage in strings of color.

He reached the outskirts of the city in what felt like both too much and too little time, people got fewer, the air turned even colder from the lack of bodies to heat it back up a bit. Yoongi shuddered, felt his limbs and his whole body stiffen under his clothes. Scorching heat and a merciless sun meant uncomfortable, high temperatures paired with drought during the day and icy cold air that stung on exposed skin quite as painfully as needles did during the night when even the last bit of heat was wrenched out of the dark streets and buildings. As soon as he had exited the train, the air got even colder than it had been in the city before, turning his nose hidden underneath the mask a funny red. Without thinking consciously too much he reached his home, the farm in the outskirts of the city where houses got smaller. No lights were on except for the ones on the outside of the estate that hung from the top of the chain-link fence in glowing rods much like the fruits of a plant, both promising and inviting. Out of sheer laziness, Yoongi decided against going through the main entrance because it meant actually unlocking and dragging the fence open, which he was not very keen to do. Instead, with a quietly muttered “fuck it” he got off of the street and followed the side of the estate until he found the long-familiar hole in the fence from either animals or simply kids, and slipped past it, careful not to dirty himself too much of rip open his clothes on a sharply ending wire. Yoongi’s feet kicked off dust from the ground which stuck to the material of his boots in a thin layer, making them look strangely light under the lights from the fence. He crossed the grounds and walked towards the house, completely ready to pass out.

The little guilt Yoongi still felt from time to time because he was merely human had rid itself from his conscience when he received his payment. It was even larger than what they had negotiated before because Minjae was convinced that fast, efficient work that left no traces deserved higher recognition. Yoongi had just watched in bemusement when he got the money handed out to him and already knew he would be able to pay some new upgrades on his hopper’s engines while still providing enough water for when selling the harvest wasn’t earning them enough money. He was now eyeing his account happily, a content little smirk on his face and a cup of synthetic caffeine water in his hand. He was lounging outside on a seat next to a table and had his feet, kept in dirty boots, propped up on the surface. On his command, his comm had calculated how long his savings and speculated future earnings of his uncle’s farm would keep them afloat. Relieved, Yoongi noted that they had good chances of surviving this summer without struggling too much. Since his comm was always assuming there were at least one or two fields less fertile and therefore worth less than the others and used slightly higher water prices for when a delivery would come later than usual, making the essential liquid more expensive, it was safe to say that they were going to have little worries about getting by until the next harvest time.

Suddenly, Yoongi remembered the other contract he had downloaded anonymously onto his communicator: the thing on Boreas. With a few taps on the transparent, scratched surface illuminated by the bright words and information etched into the device’s program, he pulled open the contract page and eyed it in mild curiosity.

Type of contract: Protection details  
Work expected: Protection, usage of weaponry, possible killings (NOT prioritized)  
Location: Boreas  
Environment: Urban, subterranean  
Client: AOPR  
Experience: 2+ γ-years  
Skills: Close combat, artillery, miscellaneous guns  
Equipment needed: Hopper  
Equipment provided: Artillery, miscellaneous weaponry (if needed)

As workers on Boreas being treated like slaves morphed into an act of normality, the founders of the Association Of Planetary Resistance made it their ambition to fight for an equal treatment of humans all over the planets, allowing fair payment and treatment of individuals by organizations employing them, no matter their home planet’s general wealth. In the light of new developments, armed private protection details are needed for civilians supporting the Association in case of a conflict with the official military and authorities in office on Hemeras. In order for our societies and cultures to prosper and bloom properly and undisturbed by discriminations of minorities or less wealthy parts of the planet’s peoples, it is deemed mandatory to not put an end to our cause but protect it instead.

  
Aspatsomaio,  
Jung Hoseok

Yoongi thought about the contract for a moment. Technically, he met all the expectations. He was okay with working on Boreas, the whole operation being underground also wasn’t very surprising since the only real resources the winter planet possessed were the ores and crystals hidden underneath its surface. He also was experienced enough, having spent good nine gamma years as a mercenary. Because the time the individual planets need to orbit the sun varies, units of time were different all around the solar system. At one point, officials decided to locate their headquarters on a station in Hemera’s orbit, Gaea, and with the planet’s time units now affecting basically all of the planets’ officials, gamma units were introduced for interplanetary communication while still maintaining the planets’ own units for simplicity when talking about one planet on its own. Planets’ features were numbered with greek letters, closest to furthest from the sun Sol.

Iris, the closest planet with a tropical, humid climate, had the addition alpha. Thetys, the second closest planet characterized by its surface being mainly water with many islands on it instead of large land masses, held the addition beta. Hemera, third planet from the sun, had the station Gaea kept in its orbit, a stationary station that always stayed within the same distance over the same location on Hemera’s surface, where the United Federal Council met, as well as the moon Pluton, where the United Armed Forces lived, trained and operated from. Persephone was known for its harsh seasonal changes due to its relatively strongly tilted axis and also the moderately shitty hell hole Yoongi chose to stay in for the majority of his life outside work. Boreas, the winter planet, had a cold climate due to its distance from the sun, higher gravity and still carried humans around on its orbit around Sol no matter the inconvenient living and working conditions.

In an act of impulsive intrigue, Yoongi mentally prepared to accept the contract. He was amazed by himself, simply for choosing to spend an indefinite amount of time with no payment negotiated yet. Of course, officially he hadn’t accepted yet. He would still wait a bit. Yoongi actually chuckled a bit and shook his head, even though he was completely alone, when he reached out for the mug on the table, filled with hot water with all kinds of supplements added to it. He had put caffeine and several vitamins in there and even some flavored tablets to mask the bitter taste of all the pills combined. If he planned to accept the Boreas contract, he knew he needed to go to work on his hopper real fast. Draining the last of his drink, he shut of his comm and rose from his seat. He had a busy day ahead.  



	2. the Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> However, Jimin should be furious and he is anything but. No, he is relieved. Beyond relieved, even. Finally, he would be able to escape the dumpster of dirt, skyscrapers, poverty and hatred towards his kind – his former kind! – and leave all of the ugly memories behind.

Park Jimin – Hemera

“Good morning, Park.” Jimin jumped up immediately upon hearing the voice from across his room. His main comm interface was blinking and calling out to him with information and his schedule. He was sitting on his bed, groaning slightly. He wiped over his face with a hand, stopping a bit to rub his eyes clear of sleep. He was drenched in cold sweat, his blonde hair stuck to his forehead uncomfortably, almost like a second skin. His thin blanket had pooled around his waist when he had risen, he moved his hand to rub over his neck a bit, soothing the tension from his dream. It was the same dream he always seemed to have, it never failed to steal his sleep on nights he didn’t feel them under his skin. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept longer than three hours. His thighs felt like they were on fire so he quickly threw the blanket from his legs as if it was burning him. He still felt it on his legs, the whips and slaps and the punches to his body. It made everything feel much more real. He still felt the belt from his dream, there was also still a crawling on his back from the scourge. He shook his head as if to clear it. “Put on my playlist,” Jimin ordered and his interface followed, playing music from where it stopped again, a soft piano filled the room. After climbing out of his bed he hurried into the bathroom to both relieve himself and freshen up. He really just wanted to get his mind off of things. The shower was scorching hot, so hot he couldn’t feel where he had been hit anymore. He cleaned his hair, cleaned his body and shaved, washed his face and dressed himself in his working attire: A grey shirt with the logo of the company that employed him under a black, dirty and greasy overall, heavy boots on his feet and gloves in his pocket. On his wrist was his comm, currently turned off, like a band of glass wrapped around his skin. 

He glanced at the mirror in front of him, his eyes were immediately drawn to where his jaw and neck met underneath his ear. Some days he woke up and found the mark burning, especially after a nightmare. Today was one of those. On other days he completely forgot its existence. He felt so wonderfully normal on those days, like he had lived his prior life as an ordinary citizen of Hemera and not as a cumbucket. It wasn’t like he had enjoyed it. In fact, he couldn’t recall a single second where he did. He had been born into it and no matter how hard he tried, there wasn’t a single memory in that pretty little head of his without the mark, the crest, branded into his skin where he could never hide it, reminding him of where he had belonged. Even though he was free now, as free as one can be, he found himself in certain situations because of his mark more often than he’d like. After all, it wasn’t common for whores to ever stop whoring. If they did, then only because they had been burned and pressed into teeny tiny capsules, neatly stored and documented in one of the countless genetic archives. Him getting out had been a miracle. A miracle, still haunted by his past, when sweaty hands groped his body, fingers fumbled with his clothes, trying to wreck that face of his, gag him, make him beg, break his will–.

A slap rung through the small room. His cheek gradually turned red. Enough. He didn’t want to think about it. Hurriedly, he grabbed his back, turned on his comm and left his dorm, going straight for the community kitchen. 

Even though he was anything but hungry, sleep and exhaustion hung to his bones and dragged him down. Jimin let out a breath he was unconsciously holding when he entered the cramped space of the kitchen and found it deserted. Usually he was friendly and cheerful towards the other residents of the shelter, showed his gratitude at every given instance, but today his dream still clung to him too tightly. He stood in front of the counter, it was grey and smooth like almost everything in the shelter, illuminated by lights that emitted less heat, making them more efficient. As if it was efficient in any way to have them burning all day. His head kind of throbbed at the brightness when he put a clear mug under one of the taps on the wall next to the counter and pressed the button to allow hot, steaming water to flow into the container. There were both caffeine pills and powder for consumption and solution for injection neatly piled in the cupboards. He chose some powder in an orange package and quickly studied the small letters printed on it. It’s supposed to taste like real oranges, not that he could judge. Most foods, flavors and supplements were artificial anyways, real oranges were something most people wouldn’t even see in their lives. Two hundred milligrams of caffeine. He chose two packets and swiftly dumped them into the hot water, inhaling a sweet and sour smell. 

He sat down on top of the long table in the middle of the small room, the surface was cluttered with all kinds of things, from empty packets, syringes, boxes and supplements to pieces of cloth, mugs, both dirty and clean plates and all kinds of electronic pieces, as if someone had gutted some device. Suddenly, the comm on his wrist, that had been sleeping until now, came to life with a sound. Two syllables illuminated his wrist. Suho. He tapped onto it to play his memo. 

”Park, where are you? We need to have a talk,” the familiar voice demanded, making Jimin sigh. He tapped on the answer option and quickly said he was in the kitchen, not bothering to ask what Suho was going to say. 

”You’ve been resigned, Park,” was the first thing Suho said upon entering the kitchen. With a wave of his hand he ordered Jimin to seat himself on a chair rather than the actual table and he quickly obliged. He had no idea where the sudden news came from. A wave of anxiety washed over him and soaked his body, he felt cold and exposed. 

”Why? What have I done wrong? Is there something I can do to fix it? I could work more, maybe lower my payment a bit, I know Park Jinyoung-ssi was never quite happy about my salary, I think –,” Jimin started babbling only to be interrupted by his opposite, who was staring at him with a discontent scowl on his face, by raising a hand at him. He lightly shook his head. ”Park, I made sure your contract was going to be terminated. By now, you have enough experience for me to transfer you to another employer, I think Hemera is not quite the right working and living environment for you.” 

Jimin was dumbfounded. He just stared at him, mouth slightly agape, blinking slowly. Suho had always been quite fond of him, ever since he had picked him up from the streets as a young boy. They only had an age gap of about five years, making Suho something like a brotherly figure for the blonde. Still, he had never expected to be transferred from his current working space. He had finished his traineeship as a mechanic there and had been employed under Park Jinyoung ever since he was old enough to work, courtesy of Suho’s connections. Now he wouldn’t only be employed by a complete stranger, he would also have to leave Hemera, the planet where he had been born, raised and spent all his life so far. Jimin understood that he should be very angry about this, since even though it is a great and sadly necessary opportunity, he had been treated like an object once again, not even Suho had bothered to consult his opinion and wishes in this case. However, Jimin should be furious and he is anything but. No, he is relieved. Beyond relieved, even. Finally, he would be able to escape the dumpster of dirt, skyscrapers, poverty and hatred towards his kind – his former kind! – and leave all of the ugly memories behind. He nodded his head slowly when he finally realized the weight of Suho’s decision.

”Where will I go?,” he asked sheepishly, suddenly finding great interest in the grease stains on his hands. He heard Suho shift, the material of his clothes moving against each other. 

”When I was younger I had a friend with whom I lost contact until now. Fortunately, he has uploaded a form asking for a mechanic for assistance in his future work to the public database. I managed to contact him. You see, he is a somewhat busy man and can use a good employee. Since I know him, I can assure you, you will not be looked down upon,” he had answered and Jimin sighed on the inside, realizing he didn’t get an answer to his question. Suho did that quite often. It was his way to show authority. Jimin nodded again, forced his lips into a tight smile. ”I will send you all details and exchanges on your comm. Make sure to prepare yourself, you will leave with the next shuttle.”

 

Persephone. He would be leaving for Persephone in less than a couple hours. Jimin wasn’t dumb, against what his past and the crest on his neck might suggest. He knew that what Suho had told him was only half the truth. Sure, the working conditions were sub par, the large bodies of people made him hear things too often again and he was certain that he was going to snap sooner or later, but that wasn’t the whole story. Suho had left out the part where the UAF was going to try to ”recruit” him and the elder just couldn’t live knowing he could’ve saved Jimin from a certain death. Ah, blissful ignorance. He had been delighted when he found out about his travel location. Persephone was a lot more rural than Hemera, of course generalizing a complete planet was always rather useless, but simply because of the stronger tilt of Persephone’s axis the seasonal changes were more drastic, making it more suitable for agriculture than Hemera with its almost nonexistent tilt could ever be. Hemera was mainly where people lived. Both the nobility and the poorest part of the solar system were crammed together in a relatively small space. It was almost funny, how the population’s wealth seemed to decrease with the distance from the port connecting Delphi, the capital, to Gaea, the geosynchronous station situated several kilometers up in the planet’s orbit. That’s where they all went, the politicians and council members, the people representing planets they hadn’t lived on in decades. How were they supposed to know their people’s interests if the only thing they ever saw was the luxury thrown at them because of their status? 

Jimin was currently shouldering a bag with his belongings and the fact that all of the things he possessed fit into a bag no bigger than a slightly larger pillow were both quite comical and sad. It showed exactly with how much joy he had in his life so far. He had mainly packed clothes, both for work as an mechanic and those he liked to wear when he wasn’t working. Big, faux-fur coats, sheer tops, tight pants, anything to accentuate the muscles he had developed during his work. He hoped he could wear these clothes a couple of times at least. Right now he was still dressed in an overall and heavy boots, the thick fabric hung rather widely on his frame. He hadn’t zipped it up completely, instead showing an air of comfort which he absolutely didn’t have. All around him people were eyeing him, some less subtle than others, showing their obvious distress over seeing one of his kind walk along the wide bays harboring all kinds of hoppers. He was on his way to the shuttle he was supposed to be boarding in little time, he could hear the sound of his boots hitting the floor as he waved his body through the mass of people that were going their own paths, scrambling towards hoppers, shuttles, running errands or just taking a break from their work. He forced himself to look straight ahead, not meeting the eyes of the people judging him silently. Someone slapped the back of his head while passing and he clenched his jaw. Jimin was a hundred per cent certain that he would never get used to this. When he felt a hand grope his behind, he turned around immediately but no one was there. Despite how uncomfortable he felt, he forced himself back on his track. He really couldn’t afford missing his shuttle, not even when he felt people talk about him behind his back.

Jimin finally felt like he could breathe again when he situated himself on a seat in the shuttle. He sat quite uncomfortably on the hard surface, the thin cushions attached to the seat were worn useless, pressed together and rubbed on by probably thousands of prior passengers. The surface pressed against his bones harshly. Both inside and outside the shuttle, everything was cold steel and lifeless, save for the people buzzing all around the place. The vessel was almost filled to the brim, staff was moving from seat to seat, checking the belts securing the passengers as well as the injection needles in their hands or arms for the sedative that would have them slumbering on the flight instead of puking and hyperventilating because of the changes in pressure and gravity. Jimin would‘ve loved to see all the passengers and personnel hover and float around, completely unbound to the planet they were leaving more or less behind, with hair standing up straight in a boisterous way, making them look quite funny. In his imagination they did, at least. Still, Jimin really couldn‘t say he enjoyed the thought of barfing all over himself because his vestibular system had exactly no idea where the fuck his feet belonged, where up and where down were or how to deal with this dreadful vertigo in general. Didn‘t really sound like much fun to Jimin if he was being honest, so he just settled for being blissed out in some kind of slumber that brought no dreams and left you drowsy after waking up. He stared at the receipt displayed on the comm around his wrist in deep thought and completely missed out on the flight attendant standing in front of him until she decided to talk.

“Are you fine, Mister? You look quite shaken, if I may,” she said and her voice bled disinterest. She was only there because Junkies needed to be sedated stronger than the average Joe and right now, Jimin looked like a fucking Junkie dazed out of his mind.

“It’s no problem. First time leaving Hemera,” Jimin answered curtly, lips pressed into something just short of a smile. The woman smiled, bared her teeth, but her eyes didn’t follow. She mumbled words of understanding but swiftly went her way. Jimin sighed.

“So, it’s your first time flying long distance?,” his neighbor asked. Jimin tried his best to mask his surprise and distaste about having to talk to a stranger about his list of first times. A good person would be free of all of those scandalous firsts: sex, drugs, theft, fights. He wasn’t a good person though.

“Spent my whole life here,” Jimin answered instead of ignoring the stranger’s presence but he didn’t really look at him while speaking and just studied the rings on his fingers that definitely didn’t go well with this whole casually working look he was sporting. 

“My first time I felt kinda like you. But by now, I’ve stopped being on one planet for longer than a few gamma months. It’s better this way,” stranger said and Jimin turned to look at him properly. He had thick, black hair that was parted and fell over his brows nicely. He had two moles above his eye and was clad in black. He somehow reminded Jimin of the people that used to visit him when he was younger, the young businessmen that had enough money to spend and threw it around as if it were worth nothing. Unsurprisingly, he wore makeup. There were lines coming from his waterline, probably meant to look like tear streaks when they actually gave the rather good-looking male resemblance to a clown. The ear Jimin could see from his position was full of earrings, but not the filigree, silver rings and dangling ones he preferred, but instead thick, matte black rings and even a stretched one. Jimin knew this stranger must fuss over his appearance a lot. When he realized he was not going to answer, the stranger asked if he was permanently leaving Persephone and when he was given a nod and an averted glance, he askes about his feelings, as if he were expecting Jimin to tell him his whole life story.

“I’m glad I don’t have to come back. I’d be fucked, man. This whole planet is,” Jimin offers with a shake of his head. He doesn’t elaborate further and the stranger doesn’t bother pressing. They sat in silence for a while, until the displays in the middle of the vessel switched from their destination to a countdown of half a local minute until injection and the mandatory knock-out. With the timer going steadily, he grew restless with anticipation. His leg just couldn’t stop bouncing, the soles of his heavy boots emitting short ‘thunks’ that were nearly drowned in the white noise from the ship. If his torso weren‘t strapped to the seat and his hands to the armrests he surely would‘ve started fidgeting.

Finally, the numbers on the screen jumped to zero and stopped. Slowly, Jimin could see a thin, blueish liquid rise up the catheter that was buried in his arm where it was strapped on the armrest. For a short while he wondered whether it was laced with some kind of tracer. It would only be logical, considering the amount of passengers supervising all injections individually would be close to impossible. He first felt some kind of pressure in his arm when the liquid was pumped into his vein. The effect kicked it quickly: He suddenly got strangely fuzzy in his head and his reactions were more and more delayed. He never felt this drowsy before and when he finally closed his heavy lids, he thought about what was waiting for him at the end of his slumber. Jimin couldn‘t wait.

**Author's Note:**

> i have so many ideas for this floating around in my head, i don't even know if everything will make sense or if this story will tire me eventually. i try to explain as many concepts as i can without having to heavy information drops but well, you never know. i hope you enjoyed it so far, prepare yourself for slow updates though.
> 
> also, sorry for the mildly cringy and horribly translated ancient greek.


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